


wrong

by earthtomorgan



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Illness, No Fandom - Freeform, OCD, Obsession, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Original work - Freeform, Short Story, i originally wrote this about myself to show my therapist and now i’m posting it, ritualistic behaviors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:46:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthtomorgan/pseuds/earthtomorgan
Summary: a dumb short story about some things i’ve experienced due to my ocd





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this won’t do well hit wise, but i’m posting anyway.

a harmless conversation.

she walked away, head down but certainly not quiet.

wrong. she did it wrong. it was wrong. lights were flashing in her head, telling her she was wrong, she didn’t show them who she really could be because she couldn’t.

a million thoughts about how they feel about her. what they think of her.

they must have thought she was so awkward, unenthusiastic about the conversation, boring.

a thousand adjectives made up in her mind.

she was better than that person. she could probably write better than them, she could probably speak more articulately than them, she probably had a better sense of humor than them. but at the same time, she knew she wasn’t. nowhere near better than anyone. she wasn’t even good enough for herself, how could she be enough for anyone else, let alone better?

 

distraction with more obsession.

she counted the soft steps she took in fives, stepped inside of the square tiles and would not step outside of them. she went out of her way to put all of her energy into making sure she stepped inside of those tiles that her shoe just perfectly fit, stepping diagonally into the next one.

she noticed where she was, looked up at the locker to her left she could not skip looking at every time she passed it. number 5. the number and it’s variations had become an addiction. she noticed the small scratch in the lower left corner of the locker. then the dot of black to the top right, finally moving her vision to the piece of tape in the middle. it was in that order or the world ended.

she exited the building, removing her phone from her pocket and immediately going into a trance when the screen brightened and she watched the time of the song she was listening to until it hit 1:23. she almost hit a few people but she couldn’t look away.

the tip of her shoe caught on the ground, and she stepped back and repeated the sensation on the the other shoe. if she were alone, she would’ve done it five times on each to make it ‘even’.

she kept moving, feeling embarrassed, almost humiliated. she hoped no one saw.

her throat contracted to produce a few short, tuneless hums. no designated amount of hums was right, but she couldn’t stop herself until she got there.

 

she reached home, falling onto her bed. she stood up, repeating it. she stood up again and again, finally reaching five times before she felt satisfied.

she played music while she calculated answers for math. she tapped her paper with the music, furious at herself when she messed up and missed a beat. she followed this routine until she didn’t feel like listening to music anymore. the tapping didn’t cease. she tapped in increments of five, five sets of five and then starting over. she received no real satisfaction from it, but she couldn’t stand failure. when her finger slipped and she was no longer stuck on the pattern, inferno was created in her mind. her breathing sped up, her jaw clenched, and she could feel her heart sharply pang like it did when she was anticipating something. this was uncomfortable, so she stuck with what made her feel the best. ritualistic obsession.


	2. Chapter 2

thinking was torturous. she saw a knife, she had an urge to cut or stab herself or someone near her. she saw a hot stove, she had a painfully intent desire to put her hand on it until her skin burned away. she saw a cute animal, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the need to squeeze it to death. 

she saw possible dangerous outcomes of not particularly dangerous situations.

she saw her sister hanging off of something to entertain herself, she envisioned her falling and then was swarmed by thoughts of her being hurt, her dying, her being permanently injured. she felt the emotions that would come along with the outcome while she was bombarded with the unwanted thoughts.

she often had day ruining thoughts stop by and stay a while. she contemplated how she would feel if certain or all members of her family died. she went through the motions in her mind, thinking of what her life would be like if her mother died. how she would move on, if she would move on. sometimes she saw herself committing suicide, then pictured her family afterwards. she wondered how they would feel. sometimes she selfishly questioned if they would feel.

her thoughts, true to the name, intruded on her life and happiness. they were hard not to give into, because once you let yourself get past the first thought, you start falling and there’s no way out until your mind decides its time. she could be stuck in the hole for hours before the time is up.

and in some ways, it seemed like she wanted to hurt. she wanted to fall down the hole.

 

what perplexed her was that she would never dream of acting on most of her dangerous urges. she would never kill someone or something, she would never kill herself. she felt guilt for what she was burning to do. how could she ever want to kill? or injure? or even say something hurtful that she _could_ recover from?

yet still, the thoughts remained and tortured her.


End file.
